


You Really Shouldn't Be Laddering

by reillyblack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Bi-Curiosity, Bisexual Derek Hale, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Drunk Stiles, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Nerd Stiles, drunken ones, fairly innocent hook-up fic, only because of the work hierarchy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reillyblack/pseuds/reillyblack
Summary: Back in college, Derek hooked up with a stranger at a party. That stranger is their new software engineer.Fuck his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just FOUND this in my writing folder. How do these things happen.

That party five years ago comes screaming back to him as Laura sits on the edge of his desk and waves an arm in the direction of the guy standing in Derek's office doorway. 

"This is Stiles. He's our newest recruit. Just graduated in computer science from our alma mater, has an excellent software profile already built from a previous internship. I expect great things from him." 

Derek can't keep the shock from his face as the doe-like eyes from that party (and many of his wet dreams since) sweep over him and flicker with recognition. He looks almost the same -- a similar nerdy t-shirt (this time with a dinosaur in the middle rather than the "eat, sleep, code" t-shirt Derek vividly remembers), same plaid overshirt, same definitive air of smart geek. He's even gotten glasses since Derek last saw him. They somehow amplify his cuteness by a hundredfold. 

They both stiffen. Laura looks between them with curiosity and a hint of impatience before taking the initiative, as she usually does, and introducing him for him. 

"This is my brother, Derek. He can be... quiet. He manages day to day operations around here, though, so you two will get to know each other with time. What he lacks in words he makes up for in hard-ass persistence, so watch out. And don't get your time sheets in late. He hates that." 

The guy, Stiles, ducks his head and shifts his weight awkwardly and Derek suddenly can't decide if he's more embarrassed or aroused by the sight of him. 

"I look forward to working with you," Stiles says to the floor before looking just a little bit up to focus on Derek's desk, like he wants to meet Derek's eyes but can't quite do it. Laura glances at him one more time before she seems to give up on figuring out their weirdness and sweeps out of the room, pulling Stiles along after her. Stiles practically runs from his office.

Well.

Fuck his life.

 

* * *

 

_5 years earlier..._

Derek isn't moping, whatever Laura says. It's quiet in the kitchen, and he likes the quiet. Also, he tried "socializing" in the living room with all the drunk, noisy people, and some tipsy asshole almost kicked him in the face while attempting a handstand. So, clearly socializing isn't a good option right now. (Or, maybe ever).

Laura has dragged him along to a handful of these kinds of parties during their college career, where he knows next to no one and doesn't really want to get to know anyone. Sometimes he makes an effort. Sometimes he even goes home with a girl. He looks... the way he does, which luckily makes up for the fact that he's an irritable recluse with few social skills. Unfortunately, it also means that Laura counts those very few hookups as "successes" on her part and continues to drag him to parties he doesn't want to go to. 

Derek is contemplating whether he could quietly slip through the living room and out the door without Laura noticing when the guy bursts through the kitchen doors. His eyes land on Derek and his finger comes up in an accusatory point. 

"You." 

Upturned nose, big brown eyes, sinful lips, adorably messy hair... Derek can't help but stare as the stranger sways unsteadily in place, still pointing at him. The guy waits an inappropriate amount of time before explaining himself. In the meantime, Derek is seized with the irrational fear that Laura paid him to come in and bother Derek, somehow intuiting both that he's into men (which he hasn't mentioned to her yet) and that he is especially into this type of man -- kind of geeky, kind of nerdy, and completely adorable.

Speaking of adorable, the guy is finally talking to him in a babble-y, animated way. 

"Danny said there's more beer, but I have to use a ladder. It's possible that I'm a little drunk and shouldn't be laddering right now. Can you spot me, man?" 

This guy is more than "possibly" drunk. Derek breathes a quiet breath of relief as his irrational fear dissipates. He sets his beer down, pushing off from the kitchen counter. The guy grins, sways, and pivots slowly on the spot as he looks around the kitchen. 

"Pantry... pantry..." 

Derek steers him by the shoulders in the right direction. He has nice shoulders, broad and firm. Derek pulls his hands off him like he's been burned as soon as he notices this. 

"Oh! Pantry. Nice." Then he looks at Derek. "That's a yes, right?" 

Derek blinks at him. The guy ignores his blinking and teeters over to the pantry. They open the pantry doors, and the guy contemplates the inside for another few moments in that slow, drunken way. 

"Top shelf," the stranger stares forlornly at the top shelf and makes no move to look for a way up there, so Derek spots the ladder leaning against the wall and unfurls it. The guy just watches him, leaning against the doorframe, probably trying not to fall over. "Strong and silent type, huh?" the guy chuckles mostly to himself. Derek spares him a glance as he adjust the ladder until he's sure it's secure.

"I should probably..." Derek starts to say, looking up.

"No, no, I got it." The guy seems sure of this. He pushes past Derek, despite Derek's attempt to climb the ladder himself, and starts climbing, missing one of the steps and only barely catching himself before he could tumble back to the ground. "Just spot me, dude."

"I thought you said you shouldn't be laddering."

"Oh, yeah." The guy laughs, now from the top rung. "Well, I'm up here already. Whatever. Just don't let me die."  

Derek can definitely spot him. From this angle, his t-shirt flares open to reveal the long planes of his chest, though Derek's eyes can't get past the narrow hips and mouthwatering bulge of his jeans to contemplate it much. That same irrational fear returns, that Laura somehow knows this guy is exactly his type and sent him here to bend just like that over the top of the ladder, and bite his lip just like that as he lifts a bag -- presumably filled with cases of beer -- off the top shelf with the utmost concentration. 

Derek's hands go out as the guy sways on the ladder with the new weight of the beer. When that sway looks like it could turn into a fall, Derek grabs the guy's thigh and hip to steady him. He looks down at Derek over the bag of beer, his eyes crinkling in thanks. Then he seems to get his grip on the ladder again and starts trudging down. Derek's hands feel warm where they held onto his thigh, brushed the skin of his waist. 

The stranger's feet reach the floor and he unsteadily bends to drop the bag off on the ground. Derek's eyes get stuck on his ass again as he leans over to peer in the bag. 

"Ugh. These aren't even worth the trouble. Coors _Light_? Who fucking drinks that? _Danny_. You had one job." 

Derek is too busy staring at his mouthwatering ass to realize the guy has eyes on him again. The stranger looks confused, and a little startled, when their eyes finally lock next to his hip. The guy straightens up and faces Derek for a heart-pounding moment. 

"Were you just...?" He tilts his head to the side, eyes flicking between Derek's. Derek is frozen with fear and shame and a little bit of excitement. 

"Did you... do you really..." The guy blinks, sways again, catches himself on the doorframe. "You think I'm hot?" he blurts suddenly, seeming completely bewildered. 

Derek's mouth parts silently and his brain goes blank as he searches for an excuse for himself. 

" _You,_ " the guy says, holding onto the door frame tighter. He's pointing at Derek again. It's a little annoying. "Who look like _that_. Were checking _me_ out," he says it slowly, like the words don't make sense to him. Then worry washes over his confusion. "You... _were_ checking me out, right? Or do I have something on my ass? Oh god. Oh shit." He twists, trying to get a better look at the back of his pants.

Derek's mouth opens and shuts. As the guy's worry transforms into embarrassment and he chases himself in circles like a dog, Derek's brain restarts enough enough to admit, "No, I was," and then quickly follows that up with a, "sorry."

The embarrassment shifts back to surprise as the guy straightens up from his complicated twisting. They regard each other in stunned silence for a moment and Derek wonders desperately if he's some homophobic douche whose just trying to figure out the best way to land a punch while drunk. The stranger takes a step closer and lets go of the doorframe. He seems to do a reasonably good job of standing up straight. Derek silently readies himself to dodge any punches he might throw.  

"Sorry?" His eyes travel down Derek and then back up in a brazenly obvious way. " _Sorry?_ " 

The stranger's expression shifts again, this time to outright lust. All the blood in Derek's body rushes south as he recognizes it. The guy takes another step toward Derek and reaches for his shoulders, possibly to keep from falling over. Derek steadies wobbling elbows with his hands, wondering what to do with this unexpected situation, and the stranger takes advantage of that added stability to throw himself on Derek with far more strength and dexterity than Derek had reason to expect. 

Warm lips that taste like tequila, cinnamon, and salt press messily against his own, the stranger's hands digging into Derek's scalp and tugging at his hair in a pleasantly painful way. Derek stumbles back somewhat, regaining his balance on one of the shelves, and gets lost in the feel of the stranger's narrow hips pressing against his upper thighs, his lean arms resting easily over Derek's shoulders as he presses their chests together. 

"God," the guy breathes against Derek's mouth, "And you think _I'm_ hot?" 

Derek stumbles back again as the guy attacks his lips with renewed vigor, his body squirming and lifting off the ground completely from time to time. Derek realizes after what seems like ages that he might actually be trying to climb up him. He hesitantly grabs at the back of the guy's thighs and the man takes that as a cue to literally jump on him. Derek braces himself against a shelf as he steadies, all while a tongue vehemently explores his mouth and little, distracting whines sound in the guy's throat. 

"You are," Derek pants, finally prying his mouth away to focus on adjusting his grip on the stranger's hips so they both don't fall down, "really drunk." The guy grunts in what could have been agreement and chases after Derek's mouth, his hands gripping the back of Derek's head to steer him back into a kiss. Derek tries to stay fucking focused. It's a feat. "We can't... we should stop. You don't know what you're doing." 

"Only sort of," the guy mumbles, giving up on Derek's mouth and sucking on an earlobe instead. Derek's cock twitches at the feeling and the hips pressed against it wiggle with interest. "I've never kissed a guy before. You're so sturdy. And firm. Like, all muscle. I can't believe this. " 

"What?" One of Derek's hands is up the guy's shirt, scraping over a pebbled nipple. The words stun him, though, and send out warning signals. "This is..." 

"My first, yeah," the guy croons in his ear, licking down his neck to bite tendons and muscle. Derek groans involuntarily and shudders as the stranger's hips gyrate again, rubbing their erections together. "So different. I can't believe this is happening. I waited so long, and then fucking Coors Light is what does it. Praise the beer gods." 

The guy is obviously not in his right mind. Derek has no idea what he's trying to say.

"We should stop. I don't want you to regret this." Derek squeezes his eyes shut to summon all the strength he has to dislodge the guy from him and set him back down on the floor. He doesn't go easy, tightening his apparently steel limbs into vices around Derek's body. They push and pull at each other for a few tense seconds before Derek gives up and the guy hums with satisfaction before latching back onto his ear, sending shuddering want back through him.

"Good luck, dude. I'm spiderman," he giggles against Derek's skin, much to Derek's exasperation. 

"You're heavy," Derek tries, hitching him back up as he slips down on his hips again. "I'm going to drop you." 

The stranger takes Derek's threat to heart and tentatively slides one leg down to the floor. He pulls back, a warring, complicated look on his drunk face. Derek's breathing a little hard from holding him up, but it's nothing he couldn't handle if he had a willing and sober partner to fuck up against a pantry shelf. Still, the lie works. 

"Ok." The guy slides the rest of the way down and immediately backs up. Derek grabs him as he trips over the Coors Light and almost goes down, tugging him back into a standing position. Those big, brown eyes blink up at him, shining in the light from the kitchen, and Derek almost goes back on his decision to be a moral, upstanding citizen who doesn't take advantage of cute, drunk, possibly straight guys in pantries. 

"Danny needs his bad tasting water, anyway," the stranger gestures at the beer in a half-hearted way, as if he wasn't just maiming Derek's face with his lips mere seconds ago. "I should go."

"Ok." Derek watches incredulously as the guy picks up the beer, wobbles in place, and then leaves Derek to his own erection and too-fast heartbeat. 

 

* * *

 

Derek finds excuses to walk down the hall just to glance into Stiles's office and make sure he's really the guy, that guy, the mystery guy who Derek has always regretted not finding later at that party and giving him his number. The guy whose alcoholic yet sweet taste he still can't get out of his mouth. The guy with the perfectly messy, unbelievably soft hair. The possibly straight guy who jumped him like a wild animal. 

It's definitely him.

Derek gets his fifth soda from the vending machine (he doesn't even like soda, but it's a good excuse for walking by Stiles's office) and loiters in the break room panicking over the current situation Laura has, yet again, forced him into. This is exactly why he needs more of a say in hiring. She already fucked up big time by hiring Jackson, but now Derek will insist she include him in the screening process. 

Derek sets the brand new coke on a shelf of shared snacks and turns to return to his office only to find Stiles frozen in the doorway watching him. His eyes track to the coke and then back to Derek. Derek realizes belatedly that four other identical cokes bought with money from his pocket are stacked neatly next to it. Stiles might be smart enough to figure that coincidence out. 

"Machine give you the wrong kind of soda?" 

"I wanted chocolate," Derek lies faintly, surprised his lips even move. Usually he clams up in situations like this.   

"I've got some extra change if you..." 

"No." Derek shakes his head, but his eyes don't leave Stiles's Bambi eyes. "No. I'm good." 

Stiles blows out, rubbing his hand through his perfect hair. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah." 

"You're the boss." Stiles shrugs and wanders to a table with his lunch bag in hand. Derek's panic spikes because, yes, he is the boss, Stiles's boss, and there's no way that any of this is at all appropriate. Derek doesn't even think he can bring up their kiss -- no, not a kiss. Savage mauling of faces -- without intruding on their delicate new power imbalance. It could even be considered sexual harassment, depending on how poorly he communicates, which he's certainly been known to do. Best not to even bring it up, Derek decides. He turns abruptly to leave the break room. 

"Hey, sorry about... you know," Stiles calls loudly after him.

So close. 

Derek checks the break room to make sure they're alone. Stiles is sitting at a table, pulling a bag of chips from his lunch bag and eyeing Derek warily. His cheeks are red tinged. 

He walks over to Stiles's table and sits down at a chair facing the door, just in case someone decides to interrupt them. If they're going to do this, then he's going to do it right. Or he'll end up with a sexual harassment claim on his spotless company record. Whatever. 

"You don't need to be sorry," Derek says quietly, unable to look at Stiles straight. "Do you even remember?" 

"Remember _you_?" Stiles's eyebrows shoot up and his mouth twists into an ironic smile. "Are you kidding?" 

"You were really drunk," Derek says, doubtful. 

"Have you _seen_ you? No way I would forget that, even if a significant number of brain cells did die that night." Stiles grins wickedly at him and Derek's so caught off guard he doesn't answer until it's awkward again. 

"You said," and Derek's seriously not allowed to ask this, but he's not allowed to be having this conversation either, so whatever, "that I was the first guy..." 

"Oh, yeah." Stiles puts his bag of chips down, his face more serious. "What about it?" 

"Are you..." Derek looks him over. He's never been good at reading people, especially when it comes to this. "Straight?" 

Stiles blinks at him for a second before he breaks out into raucous laughter. 

"Wow." Stiles breathes hard. "What, exactly, gave you that impression? Was it me literally jumping on you? Seriously, what kind of 'straight' guys do you know? No, man. I just didn't have any other _opportunities_ to jump hot guys, but I was totally up for it." Stiles shakes his head and starts back in on his chips. 

Derek's tight chest loosens somewhat. He'd been... well, he'd been afraid that Stiles would regret their encounter for more reasons than just the alcohol in his blood. And that really could have made their new relationship terrible.

"Look, dude." Stiles freezes, at though it finally kicks in that Derek is his boss now rather than "dude". "Derek," he tries instead. Then his face scrunches up in pain. "Mr. Hale?" 

"Derek is fine," Derek says, equally pained by this new reality. 

"Derek," Stiles settles on, still somewhat uncomfortably. "I'm not going to... I'm not going to give you a hard time about it, or even mention it again if you don't want. We can forget it happened. You made it clear that you weren't interested, so no need to worry about me. Honest." 

"Weren't interested?" Derek latches on to that because it doesn't make sense. 

"Yeah." Stiles shrugs casually, as though it doesn't matter. It's a little too stilted. 

"I was interested," Derek says before he can think better of it. Shit. Laura is going to _kill_ him. Stiles's eyebrows go back up and a chip stops halfway to his mouth. "I just wasn't confident that you would be if you were sober." 

"Oh." Stiles sets his chip back in the bag, uneaten. He's smiling a little now, his beautiful brown eyes sparkling. " _Oh._ " 

"But." Derek shakes his head slightly to clear it because Stiles is a little dazzling. This conversation will probably be repeated in court someday in the near future, so Derek should make sure he's clear while he has the opportunity. "That absolutely doesn't mean that I expect anything now. We can do exactly what you said -- forget it happened. I'll never ask anything of you beyond your job, I swear." Derek stands. That's as good as he's going to get, so he should get out while he can.

"That's a shame," Stiles grins up at him, and Derek recognizes that same confidence from right before Stiles propelled himself into Derek's arms so long ago. "I thought I saw a broom closet next to your office."  

Laura is definitely going to fire him. 


End file.
